Darlington Hall
by Narya Saetan
Summary: Belle French was not one to shy away from a challenge but moving to Scotland was not nearly as challenging as her new co-worker, James Gold, proved to be. Lousy summary, I know.
1. Chapter 1

**DARLINGTON HALL**

**Pairing:** Rumbelle

**Rating:** PG (at least for now, if you know what I mean *wink*wink*)

**Summary: **Belle French was not one to shy away from a challenge but moving to Scotland was not nearly as challenging as her new co-worker, James Gold, proved to be. Lousy summary, I know.

**Notes:** As you may or, most likely, may not know I'm a huge fan of 'Remains of the Day' so I decided to write this AU based, very, _very_ loosely, on it.

Hope you guys enjoy it.

**I OWN NOTHING. **

**Chapter 1**

The day was really glorious. A soft, sweet scented breeze floated in the air. The sun was a ball of molten gold in an endless blue sky. It was impossible to fell unhappy on a beautiful day like this and Belle French was definitely not unhappy. As she wandered aimlessly across the sunny streets of Glasgow, she let her mind take her to the events of the previous days, the events that change her life so dramatically. It all happened so fast, it was all so unexpected. It was still so hard to believe and yet, here she was, in a whole different country, heck, in a whole different continent! It was overwhelming to tell the truth but Belle was never one to shy away from a challenge. Besides, the timing couldn't be more perfect. Ever since her father, Maurice, died a few months before, things changed for her. Being in the same place, seeing the same people, living in the same house was too much. So many memories; of her mother, Rose, that died so many years ago; of her father, gone just a few months before; of all the happy times they shared, the laughing, the fondness, the love. And now she was alone, the house was empty except for herself and the pain seemed to grow deeper and sharper day after day. So when her boss, aware of her situation, told her about the co-managing job in Scotland she was all too eager to accept. It was her chance to start over, to make peace with her loss and let go of the pain.

So here she was now, alone, in Scotland. She thought that she should be scared, nervous somehow, but she only felt excited, wired. Her boss, or better, her ex-boss, Vincent Clark, warned her about her soon-to-be co-worker, James Gold. Apparently he was a mean, snarky bastard, whose only happiness was to make others miserable. It sounded frightening, it really did, but Belle only felt the rush of the challenge. She was determined to earn this job, to be worthy of this opportunity and she will win the confidence of that man. She would succeed and nothing could convince her otherwise.

Looking up to catch the sun on her face she took a deep, slow breath, feeling the slight traces of sea-salt in the air. Smiling broadly she started to make her way back to her hotel. Tomorrow was going to be a very, _very, _interesting day. She couldn't wait.

…..

Sitting at his office desk, James Gold tried, unsuccessfully, to concentrate on his job. His mind kept wandering to the nagging little fact that by this time tomorrow he was going to share this very job with some American girl. The thought was enough to make him grind his teeth in utter frustration. Why, in the name of everything that was holy, the hotel owner decided to give him a co-manager? The bloody fool probably thought he was doing him a bloody favor.

Placing his elbows on the top of the desk, he started to rub his temple with his fingertips, trying to stop an oncoming headache. Why was this happening to him? It didn't sound fair at all. Wasn't he doing an outstanding job? Wasn't he the perfect example of service and respect and professionalism? Wasn't his team competent, weren't the guests pleased, wasn't the hotel one of the most sought-after in all of Scotland? So why, why, _why _must he shared this place with some foolish girl? This place was his home, he grew up here, his father managed before him and his grand-father was head-butler to this very place before it was turned into a hotel. His blood run through these walls, feed these very gardens, tinged the waters of the Loch. He _was_ a part of this place and he felt like he was losing it somehow. Desperately he grasp at the idea that maybe she, Belle French, will turn out to be some incompetent, unfit worker and he would gladly ship her back to the States in no time. After all she was only 26. How capable could she be? Not competent at all was his bet. At least not competent enough to fit his standards, to fit the standards of Darlington Hall.

…..

Stepping of the taxi Belle found it all but impossible to keep her jaw from dropping. She knew that Darlington Hall was a beautiful place, she saw pictures of the estate before but standing here, facing all this glorious perfection was overwhelming.

"Here are your bags, miss." The taxi driver said, placing the bags on the gravel next to Belle. "If you need my services again just call the taxi company and ask for Seamus."

"Of course. I will. Thanks Seamus." Belle replied, smiling and waving him goodbye.

She was still stealing glances at the beautiful scenery surrounding her. The sun reflecting in the calm waters of the Loch, the white peaks of the mountains in the background, the perfectly trimmed gardens that seemed to stretch on forever. All this beauty, all this perfection. She knew that it will be all too easy to fall completely in love with this place. She could picture it already: walking for hours on end across the gardens and forest paths, finding little cozy, secret corners to hide for a few hours with a blanket and a book, or just sitting by the Loch, basking in the raw, sharp, almost wild flawlessness of this place.

"Beautiful, wouldn't you say?" A feminine voice asked, making Belle jump slightly.

"Yes." She answered, a little breathless. "Flawless is actually the word I was thinking of." Taking a little step forward and stretching her hand she introduced herself. "I'm Belle French. I'm here to talk to Mr. James Gold about the co-managing job."

"I'm Anna. The executive house-keeper." She took Belle hand and shake it delicately. "I can take you to Mr. Gold's office. I bet he is already expecting you."

"Thank you so much. " Belle grabbed her bags and followed the woman – Anna –across the garden, toward the grand entrance of the hotel. The building itself was lovely. It was enormous but still carried a homely feeling, unlike those huge, soulless skyscraping metal-filled building that are more commonly associated with the idea of a 5 star hotel. Darlington Hall was the home of the Darlington family for generations. Belle could almost feel the history of this place surrounding her. Just imagining all the love and drama and tragedy and happiness and emotion that these very walls saw throughout the centuries ticked something inside of Belle that she believe was lost forever. The need to grab pen and paper and write was so intense it was frightening. Something must have shown on her face because Anna stopped, looking at her with some concern:

"Everything alright, Miss French?" Anna asked, pleasantly.

"Everything is wonderful, thank you." Belle replies, truthfully. "In fact, I didn't feel this good in a long time."

"I'm glad to hear that. One needs to be at his best when dealing with James Gold."

That spiked Belle curiosity immensely. Again, when someone talked about that Mr. Gold, it was only to tell her how terrifying he was. Strangely she felt nothing but anticipation at the prospect of meeting the man that inspired such strong feelings.

"Is he really that bad?" She asked, truly intrigued.

"Well, he is not bad as in 'evil' but…" Anna paused, trying to explain to this very nice, very beautiful girl - who was now her new boss, if Gold didn't scared her off – just what exactly made James Gold such a feared character.

"He his abrasive. Intolerant to incompetents. Perfectionist and passionate about his work. Those are not bad qualities, _per se_, but he tends to rub people of the wrong way. He is not tolerant, comprehensive or friendly. He will not hesitate to bite your head off if he thinks he is right. All in all he is not a very warm person and he tends to make animosities very easily."

"I will tell you this, Anna, I can't wait to meet him." Belle said, grinning wickedly. "I think he will find a worthy opponent in me. I never backed away from a fight and I don't intend to start now."

"Oh my! Should I warn the staff that we will be having a screaming match in a few minutes?"

Belle laughed out loud at that and soon Anna joined her. When Belle get herself under control and looked at Anna, still wiping unshed tears of mirth, she knew that she already had a friend and an ally in this place. Things were getting better by the minute. She just hoped that her spirits would be as high after the encounter with the fearsome Mr. Gold.

As they continue to make their way to Gold's office, Belle let her gaze travel across the lobby, trying to burn that first sight in her mind. If Darlington Hall was beautiful on the outside what to say of the inside? It was like stepping into a time-machine and travel a few centuries into the past. That was, if you could ignore the people checking-in and out at the counter and all the modern appliances. But still, it was all so tastefully made that instead of being a confusing mix of present and past it was instead an example of perfect harmony. The wood and the stone sharing the same space with the glass and metal, minimalistic design and rich colors, the soft murmur of the voices and the breathtaking panoramic view that she catch through the windows, all combined to give her the most amazing impression. If she wasn't already in love with this place she would surely have fell for it now. Belle knew that she would call this place her home, very soon. It made her imminent meeting with Gold all the less threatening, for some reason. _It will be very hard for him to scare me off now, _Belle thought.

Anna was explaining that to her left was the restaurant, famous for its traditional cuisine. To the right was the SPA, one of the most awarded in all of Scotland and the beautiful staircase on the back led to the library. Belle's feet itched to go and take a look at it but, alas, business first, pleasure later.

They climbed the staircase and turned right, toward Gold's office, or so Belle thought, but apparently Anna was leading her directly into a blank wall. She was about to ask Anna where were they going when she noticed that Anna was pressing a hidden latch that opened a secret door. Belle sense of wonder was at all time high and she beamed.

"Secret doorway? I love it!" She said, excited.

Anna smiled at her exuberance and explained that, back in the day, all the manors used to have hidden passageways for the servants, shortcuts of a sort, to allow them to be everywhere seemingly at the same time. This passageway led to the room that was transformed in Gold's office at the manor.

Anna pointed Belle toward the only door in the hallway and urged Belle to follow her. Pausing outside the door, Anna looked at Belle and asked:

"Ready?"

"As ready as I can be I guess." Now Belle was starting to feel the first threads of apprehension, but she nodded at Anna to go ahead and knock.

A soft voice told them to come in and Belle found herself in a small and tidy-looking office, with a few bookshelves, a desk and a couple of armchairs facing it. Anna took her leave and, at last, Belle was finally standing face to face with the infamous James Gold and she would be lying if she said he was what she expected him to be. Her mind created this image of a huge beast of man, tall and wide and intimidating. Instead she found a man of slight built, lean, looking very dignified in a three-piece, charcoal gray suit, dark gray tie and dark blue silk shirt. He used his hair a bit on the long side, brown and gray tresses brushing the collar of his shirt. Belle noticed he was not smiling, his brown eyes held a dark glint that told her that he was far from considering her worthy of such an important task as co-managing Darlington Hall. They stood there for a minute, standing at each side of his desk, facing each other until with a small excuse for a smile he asked her, rather politely despite the obvious animosity, to take a seat.

"I've read your résumé Miss French and I must confess that it's rather impressing considering your age." His voice was soft and profound and his accent heavy. She found that she liked his voice quite a lot, if she could look pass the rudeness of his words.

"If you've read my résumé, Mr. Gold, than you are certainly aware that I've been working in hotel management since I was 16 under the orientation of Vincent Clark. He is, as you know, one of the best in the business. So I am confident that my age would not present any kind of trouble and I am sure you will never find reasons to think otherwise." She tried to sound calm and collected, to exude confidence. That was the best way to deal with someone who seemed to thrive with the discomfort of others.

"Yes. That remains to be seen." Was Gold's curt reply. "I warn you Miss French, I expect perfection, I expect complete dedication to Darlington Hall. To you managing this place may be just a job but to me this is a way of living, my calling in life if you will. And if anyone fails to demonstrate the proper behavior, and when I say anyone rest assured that I mean _anyone, _they will find themselves facing an invitation to leave. Am I making myself clear, Miss French?" Gold, asked, leaning forward on his desk, hand grabbing the armrests of his chair, all but growling at her.

"Perfectly, Mr. Gold." Belle assured him. He was doing his very best to be intimidating, to sound threatening, but one of Belle's best abilities was to read between the lines. Yes, he will be a difficult man to deal with, with a strong personality and who seem to enjoy terrifying people way to much but, truth to be told, all this show, all those menacing words were just his way of saying that he loved this place and was not willing to let anyone take it from him and to that Belle could relate.

"Well, since we understand each other maybe we can move on and start with the tour of estate and introducing you to the staff." Mr. Gold said, standing up and stretching his hand to grab the gold handle of a cane. Carefully making his way around the desk he added, gesturing toward the door: "Shall we?"

As he was opening the door they heard someone squeak and found themselves staring into the very embarrassed face of Anna, who was clearly listening at the door.

"Uh, …Mr. Gold! I was just…. you know….." she stammered, blushing furiously.

"Making sure no one eavesdrop on our conversation." Belle put in, taking pity on the head housekeeper. "Am I right?"

"Yes, of course. You know how nosy people can be." She said, shooting Belle with a look of extreme gratitude. "But now I'll run along because I have lots to do and you have lots to do too so I will just leave you to do what you have to do and I am rambling aren't I? I will just leave." And without waiting for a reply she all but run down the hall.

Belle looked at Gold and caught a twitch on his lips and a spark in his eyes as if he found the whole affair hilarious but couldn't let it show. _After all he had a façade to maintain, _Belle thought with a smile.

"That was very nice of you." Gold noted, sounding very serious. Belle wasn't sure if he was mad at her for not reprimanding Anna but she was going to stand her ground even if he was.

"It was partly my fault really. I think she was curious about the lack of fear I've shown. She probably thought I was crazy, or at least lacking the most basic instinct of self-preservation."

"Well, it is widely known that I am a monster." He said, aiming for 'nonchalant' and failing miserably.

"You're not a monster." Was Belle quick reply.

"Oh, really? And how would you know Miss French?" His voice was threatening but she caught that twinkle in his eyes that she was sure people usually missed. It gave her confidence to push her luck a little further and maybe tease him a little.

"I know because I happen to have this ability or 'super-power' if you will, to read people." She said offhandedly

"And what do you see when, to use your own expression, 'read' me?" He asked, sounding genuinely interested.

_I see a lonely man, _was her thought but she couldn't said it, not now. That will be pushing things way too far way too soon.

"I see a man who enjoys terrorizing his staff just for the fun of it." She said, knowing that that was also true.

He didn't answer to that, only looked at her in the most disconcerting way. Belle found herself feeling drawn to that complicated man in a diffuse but impossible to deny way. Not an attraction, at least not yet, but… It was as if she was the first person to see pass his fearsome attitudes, the first person to at least try and understand who he was.

Needing to light things up, Belle forced a smile and asked:

"Shall we continue or am I fired already? I bet that would break some sort of record." Belle mused.

"Yes, we shall and no, if you were to be fired that would not break any kind of record." James said, sounding as if he was smiling on the inside.

"Really? But I'll make it to the Top 3, right?"

"More like Top 10." And now was impossible to deny that he was trying to repress the urge to smile openly. Looking at her dumbfounded expression he added: "I told you I was a monster."

Belle only snorted in the most unladylike, endearing way he had ever heard. _Endearing? Really, James Gold? Are you losing it already? _he thought, doing his best to summon the rage, the burning fury that he felt when he was told that some American girl was coming to work here, with him, but he couldn't. Belle - Miss French - was not at all what he was expecting. Behind the light banter she so effortless engaged with him he sensed the sharpness of her mind, the innate grace of her demeanor. His gut was telling him that Belle - _Miss French! - _was, despite all odds, Darlington Hall material.

Waving for her to follow him, he started to give her the grand tour of the hotel, pausing whenever they found someone of the staff to make introductions. James Gold also took the chance to introduce her to some prominent guests that where currently staying in Darlington Hall. He was pleased to see that the guests and well as the staff seemed to have taken an instant liking to the new co-manager. It was somewhat relieving to notice that he was not the only one to fall for her charms. Although he was not a big fan of the looks some specimens of the male gender where shooting her way. Not that he was blind to the reason. She was lovely, after all. A beauty.

He showed her the rooms on the top floors, the library – noticing how her eyes light up at the sight of all those books – with the panoramic windows facing the Loch and gardens below, the SPA and, finally, the restaurant. It was empty at the time, or so it seemed. Belle caught the faint sound of a woman's voice sounding distraught. James Gold heard it to and just when they started to move toward the sound a woman appeared - a girl really - looking on the verge of tears. She raced passed them, mumbling a quick excuse, and when Gold was getting ready to call her back to explain herself, a man came from around the corner the girl just run from. He was young, darkly handsome and with an insolent grin. Belle took an instant dislike on the man. He stroked her as a philanderer and, judging by the crying girl, one that wasn't acquainted to the meaning of the word 'no'.

"What happened here Mr. Jones?" Gold asked through gritted teeth, his face thunderous.

"Why, nothing Mr. Gold. Just having a little fun with young Jane, that's all." The man said, his grin widening. Belle had to repress the urge to shudder in disgust. "And who is the lovely young lady?"

"_Miss French" –_James emphasized – "is the new co-manager and you'll address her with the proper respect. Do we understand one another Mr. Jones?" James used his most menacing tone, the calm, almost growling sound indicative of his fury. Jones recognized a warning when he saw, or heard, one so he was quick to take his leave:

"Yes, Mr. Gold. Of course. I apologize Miss French. Now if you excuse me I have some errands to attend. Excuse me."

Just when he was almost out of sight James said, only slightly raising his voice:

"Oh, and Mr. Jones?" He paused, waiting for him to stop and face him. "Stay away from Jane from now on."

Belle and James both saw the hate that flashed in Jones' eyes before he stalk out. Releasing a breath Belle wasn't even aware she was holding she turned to James:

"Who was that?" She couldn't quite keep the revulsion that she felt from showing on her voice.

"Killian Jones, bartender. I'm just waiting for the first slip to fire him but until now, no such luck."

"He was harassing that girl, Jane." She intended to ask, but one look at James' expression - hard, angry - was enough to turn the question into a statement.

"I know, and I fear she wasn't the first, but no one files a complaint, no one accuses him so my hands are tied."

"But why not?" she was having a hard time to believe it.

"Because he is charming and the girls like him and feel flattered by his attentions. So, when things turn wrong, they are too embarrassed to accuse him because, at some point, they welcome the same attentions they are now denying. He prays on their insecurities." James was trembling slightly, feeling sick to his stomach.

Belle stepped forward and placed a hand in his forearm, trying to convey support, companionship.

"We will find a way to protect our girls and to get rid of that man, I promise." She didn't notice the pronouns she used, but James did and it warmed him inside. '_We'. 'Our'_. It actually felt good to know that now he had and ally to rely on, someone who will work with him not against him, someone who was not afraid of him. It felt pretty amazing.


	2. Chapter 2

**DARLINGTON HALL**

**Pairing:** Rumbelle

**Rating:** PG (at least for now, if you know what I mean *wink*wink*)

**Summary**: Belle French was not one to shy away from a challenge but moving to Scotland was not nearly as challenging as her new co-worker, James Gold, proved to be. Lousy summary, I know.

**Notes:** As you may or, most likely, may not know I'm a huge fan of 'Remains of the Day' so I decided to write this AU based, very, very loosely, on it.

I love Downton Abbey so I went ahead and burrowed John Bates and Anna Smith. I don't own them, obviously.

Hope you guys enjoy it.

**I OWN NOTHING.**

**Chapter 2**

"We have a problem." James said without preamble, stepping into his – their – office.

Belle felt this sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, the fear that, after more than two months without any sort of problem concerning Killian Jones, he finally took things too far. But one look at James' face was enough to ease her mind. He looked upset but not murderous. Relieve wash over her and she allowed herself to fall back into her chair, relaxing, while she observed the infamous James Gold prepare her a cup of tea. It was a sight, and in more than just one way. To see that most feared man in Darlington Hall, busying himself with the cups and saucers, the milk and sugar, measuring, taking sips to ascertain the perfect proportion was, in itself, something hard to believe. Well, not to Belle, not anymore. She was growing used to the real James Gold, a man who was extremely cult on one hand and on the other had the wickedest sense of humor she had ever encounter in anyone ever before. It was flattering to realize that she was the only one allowed to catch glimpses of the real him and, little by little, things started to change for her. She would found herself staring at his hands, noticing how long his fingers were or how they never cease to move, flapping and pointing and waving, in an endless dance that she grew to adore or how, when he leaned over his desk to read some paper, tresses of his hair will fall in front of his eyes and she had to repress the urge to reach and tuck them away. Small little nothings - like preparing a cup of tea - were now full of a different weight, a different importance. She was, slowly but surely, falling prey to an undesired attraction. Worst still, one she was sure was unrequited.

"Good morning to you too, Mr. Gold." She teased. "I'm fine, thank you. How very nice of you to ask."

He stared at her, unsure of what to say. It was adorable, really, how unaccustomed he was to her, still. That, more than any other thing told her how absolutely and utterly alone he really was. Well, not anymore if she had any say in it.

"Why, Miss French, for someone as insightful as yourself, can't you see that my lack of proper education was due to my unquestionable distress?" He said, doing a great show of mock hurt. For one so unused to teasing, he sure was a fast learner.

"My, my, Mr. Gold. Are you teasing me? Am I such a bad influence on you?"

"The very worst." He claimed and his smile was positively devilish as he placed a cup on the desk in front of her. He made his way to the other side, carrying his own cup. When he took his seat Belle asked:

"So, what exactly is the problem Mr. Gold?"

"Thomas is sick and will not make it today." He made it sound like being sick was nowhere near enough reason to scoundrel his duty. Then again, to the likes of James Gold, not even being near death was reason enough, so no surprise there.

Lacking a pianist to entertain at dinner time was not Belle's definition of problem but to James Gold it was a whole different matter. It was unacceptable to fail to deliver all that the guests expected. It was a matter of pride: on his profession, on his staff, on Darlington Hall itself. So, instead of dismissing his concern, Belle started to think of a way to solve his 'problem'.

"How about Teresa? Is she not available?" Belle inquired, taking a sip at her tea. As usual, it tasted amazing.

"If she was available we wouldn't have any problem now would we?" He replied, caustic. Belle, however, was long past being intimidated by his acid replies and answered, nonchalantly:

"Well, I had to ask, don't you agree?"

He huffed in annoyance and mumbled something that sound vaguely like an agreement, forcing Belle to take yet another sip at her tea to cover an amused smiled.

"Is there anyone we know that can replace him? A substitute perhaps?"

"No one that I am aware of or trust enough to work here." He said, sounding frustrated.

"Not even for a day?" She asked, already anticipating his answer.

"Not even that, Miss French."

Ostensibly rolling her eyes at him, she got up from her chair and started to pace. It always helped her thinking process, moving around. Maybe because she was one of those individuals who were unable to just do nothing. As she moved from one side of the office to the other she failed to notice the way James was looking at her. Staring, actually, literally entranced by her. For a second all this 'missing a pianist' problem was tucked away to a far corner of his mind and he just stood there, afraid to move and disrupt her, afraid of calling attention to himself. He longed for this moments, when Belle was so caught up inside her own mind that he was free to indulge his ever growing need. For it was a need, a necessity. Like breathing or eating, being with Belle became something he couldn't live without. And that terrified him beyond reason because it was getting harder and harder to remember how things were without Belle, how quickly she became a vital, indispensable part of his live. He never knew, never understood just how sterile his live was. He thought that Darlington Hall, his job, his calling was enough, was all he wanted for himself, but know he knew, he s_aw _how hollow, how empty, how lonely he really has been.

"I think we should ask the rest of the staff if they know someone to replace Thomas." Belle decided.

"I don't really trust their judgment." James replied, sounding and looking doubtful.

"But you do trust mine, yes?"

"Of course I do."

"So let me worry about this. I'll ask around and I'll make sure to stress that it has to be someone you'd approve. How's that sound?"

"That would the satisfactory."

"Satisfactory? High praise, Mr. Gold. You make me blush."

…

"And know I have to find an adequate substitute to replace Thomas tonight. And you are going to help me." Belle said, filling Anna in on their newest assignment.

"Sometimes James Gold seems to live only to make our life more difficult. Do you think that maybe he can let this go?"

"You know Mr. Gold better than me. What do you think?"

"I know him better that you? Maybe I did but not anymore. He changed since you started to work here."

"Well, apparently not enough if we judge it by this 'Thomas case'."

"I don't mean it that way. I don't believe he would ever change his way of 'living' this job but he _is_ turning into a different man and that's thanks to you." Anna exclaimed. "I never saw that man more at ease!"

"Well, maybe that's because now he had someone to share the work load with. Running this place is very demanding." Belle answered, without looking at Anna. She wasn't entirely sure if she could hide the pleasure that she felt at her words from showing in her eyes.

"Yeah, sure." Anna replied, sounding all but convinced.

Belle repressed the urge to do something childish like sticking her tongue at Anna. It was very hard. She tried to say something professional and mature, like: 'Can we please focus on the task at hand? We have a hotel to run and a pianist to find.', but she couldn't pass this chance to tease Anna so instead she asked:

"And how's John Bates doing, Anna?" Belle voice was sickly sweet. "Is he adapting to the job well?"

Anna blushed and stammered, trying to find something to say, but, stealing a glance at Belle's amused look she groaned and said:

"Is that obvious?" Anna sighed.

"Oh, honey." Belle laughed softly and hooked her arm around Anna's. "Only if you're paying attention and I'm always paying attention to my friends."

Anna smiled and looked gratefully at Belle. She liked to tease her about the changes she induced on Mr. Gold but the truth of the matter was that she brought change to everyone. With her kind but firm hand the staff, specially the girls, thrive. They were always sporting a smile, always trying to improve and win a kind word from Miss French. She had this ability to see and trust in the inner goodness of everyone and, usually, she was right. If Anna had to point a flaw at her new friend and boss it has to be her eerie insightfulness. Like, for instance, in this case. Anna was sure that her infatuation with Mr. Bates was well disguised but Belle saw right through her. She trusted Belle completely, she was the one person that she was sure would keep and cherish her confidence, but it was impossible not to feel a bit embarrassed. Anna always saw herself as a rational, balanced woman, immune to the demands of the heart. After all she was almost thirty and she has never been truly in love. And now, completely out of the blue, this older, reserved, handsome man appeared and she fell for him, head over heels. Some of her distress must have shown because Belle grabbed her hand and made her stop and look at her:

"What's wrong sweetie?" Belle pressed.

"I feel ridiculous that what's wrong." Anna confessed.

"And why is that?" Belle asked, genuinely confused.

"Because!…" Anna hesitated, trying to find a way to explain herself. "Because I don't think he would ever feel the same way for me but I still can' take him off of my head."

"I'm sorry if I sound blunt but are you _serious_!? He is _crazy_ about you!" Belle exclaimed. "He can barely stay away from you. Trust me; all those random encounters in the hallways are not so random if you know what I mean."

Anna was too stunned to form a coherent sentence so she just stared at Belle, slacked jawed. When she regained control over her ability to speak she asked, breathless:

"How did you knew we often cross paths in the hallways?"

"First, because it is my job to keep an eye on my staff, and second because it is my pleasure to keep an eye on my friend and watch over her – hopefully soon-to-be – love live."

"You're turning out to be devious little thing." Anna said, perplexed. Then, grinning widely she commented, as if to herself: "I wonder if Mr. Gold knows that about you."

Belle was getting ready to continue their playful banter but the sight of Killian Jones soured her mood quite effectively. Although he has been heeding James' order to leave Maria, and for that matter, any girl on the staff alone, Belle was positive it was only a matter of time before he 'attacked' again. Despite James explanation of why they couldn't fire that man, Belle wasn't appeased. She believed that they could find some loophole to be rid of that menace before some tragedy happened but James disabused her of that notion. Killian Jones was the son of a very good friend of the hotel owner. Only irrefutable evidence will be enough to fire him and he was too careful to make a mistake. Still, Belle wasn't going to stand by and let that man run loose on her hotel, preying on her girls so she recruited Anna to the cause. Anna was to keep an eye on him, discretely. See where he was going, who he talked to, which girls was he after. But it was an almost impossible job for just one person so, when John Bates were hired, and after they –Belle, Anna and James – agreed that he was a trustworthy person, he was also recruited. Now, Killian Jones couldn't take a step without tripping in one of them and that was, for the lack of a better phrase, pissing him off.

Jones was exiting the library and going down the staircase toward the restaurant. His eyes were flashing angrily and he looked livid. He passed Anna and Belle without even seeing them and soon he was out of sight. Belle glanced questioningly at Anna who shrugged, signaling she didn't know what got into him. That was, until they saw John Bates also leaving the library and making his way toward them. He was a tall man, solidly built, with a kind expression. As he descended his eyes strayed to Anna and a soft, almost sad smile played on his lips. Anna smiled as well and took one unconscious step forward before realizing what she was doing. Belle, of course, was enjoying the silent exchange, happy to see that her friend was given a chance to find happiness, to find love.

"Good morning Mr. Bates. " Belle said. "Can I assume that the foul temper of our friend Mr. Jones is due to you?"

"Good morning Miss French." He replied, politely. His voice was deep and smooth. His accent rich. "Yes, you can assume that. I believe our friend, as you put it, is finally realizing he is not likely to be left alone to his own devices anymore. I guess he is not that happy about it." He added, smiling slightly and glancing at Anna.

"That's excellent Mr. Bates. Truly excellent." Belle beamed at him. "Now if you excuse me I have to go and try to find a pianist. Time is running short." Taking notice at his confused look, Belle added, mischievously:

"Oh, long story, Anna will fill you in." And without another word she took off, but not before giving Anna a little nudge forward.

Just before leaving the lobby Belle glanced back, catching them talking and smiling. John was tall enough to tower over Anna but he didn't look intimidating, he just looked protective and kind and, at least to Belle's eyes, in love.

…..

Turns out it really was John Bates to solve the pianist problem. He told Anna that he happened to know a young man, very professional, that was a very good piano player. After a few phone calls it was agreed that the young William was to present himself at Darlington Hall. After a short, perfunctory conversation, both Belle and James agreed that William was going to substitute Thomas at the keys. And he was a huge success.

Later that evening, when the staff was relaxing after a hard day's work and Belle and James were sharing the usual cup of cocoa at their office, there was one man who was all but pleased… Killian Jones was in a very serious frame of mind and that usually meant trouble. Not for him, but for someone else. He used to have a good thing going on here, on Darlington. A well-paid job, thanks to his father connections, as well as the assurance that, unless he screw up bad, his job was pretty much secure. That was, until that nosy Belle French came along. Now he could barely take a step without having her, Anna Smith or John Bates watching him, controlling him. He _would not_ allow this to go on. They will learn that there was a price to pay when someone cross Killian Jones. And he already made that decision to start with John Bates.

…..

"I'm glad I caught you Mr. Gold. I have something very important to tell you." Killian Jones said, approaching James Gold who was accompanied by Anna and Belle. "In private." He added.

James tried to hide his displeasure from showing on his face and calmly replied:

"Is it work related?"

"It's about a member of the staff, yes." Killian informed.

"Then I don't see any reason why not to speak in front of the co-manager and the head housekeeper." James responded.

They saw him trying to find a way out but since there was no good enough reason for not talking in front of his superiors he conceded, disappointed. He had hoped to talk to Gold alone apparently.

"It's about John Bates." Killian said and paused, gauging the reactions. James and Belle were impassive, the only one that seemed upset was Anna.

"What about Mr. Bates?" James asked, sounding bored and uninterested.

"I caught him stealing a watch from one of the rooms. He didn't notice I was there but I saw him clearly. I thought it was better to warn you right away."

James looked thoughtfully at him, slowly nodding his head. Killian ignored both Belle and Anna. If he could convince James Gold, that would be more than enough to fire that man.

"You did very well Mr. Jones. I appreciate you coming straight to me." James ignored the indignant huff from Anna. "You will speak of this to no one. We need to catch him off guard and you know how people like to talk. I will personally do a surprise search and retrieve the stolen item. Obviously the perpetrator will be fired on the spot."

"Of course Mr. Gold." Killian agreed wholeheartedly and run off, practically skipping along the hallway.

When he was at a safe distance Anna turned and faced James, her eyes flaming:

"You can't honestly believe that load of crap!" She hissed.

"Miss Smith…." James tried but was cut midsentence by Anna's outraged discourse.

"After all this man done you still believe him. Can't you see he's trying to frame Jo… I mean, Mr. Bates?

"Miss Smith…" James tried, and failed, to stop her rant.

"I don't believe it! I never took you for a fool James Gold."

"Would you let me speak woman!" James all but roared, glaring at Anna and at Belle, who was trying with no great success to hide her grin. "Of course I don't believe him. As you said, I'm no fool. But if he _believes _that I trust his word, he is more likely to lower his guard and make some mistake." At this point Belle started to nod emphatically. She was sure that this was where James was aiming when he agreed with Jones and she wasn't mistaken. "We know that if something was stolen," James went on, "our dear Mr. Jones is the culprit. But our hands – meaning my hands and Belle's – are tied. We must remain impartial. And Mr. Bates must not act as well because the charges were against him. But you, Miss Smith, you can try and find said item. That is, if you're willing?"

"Damn right I'm willing." Anna replied, more appeased. "It will be the perfect chance for us to get rid of this obnoxious man."

"If we are lucky yes, I believe that we can fire him without having to wait until something worse happens." James pointed out, as if reading Belle's mind. That was undoubtedly her major concern, to prevent Killian James from doing something awful to any of the girls.

It was still early morning so James was sure he could delay the 'random search' at least until late in the afternoon. So Anna had about 8 hours to find the watch. The only question was whether Killian Jones was carrying the watch with him or if he already placed it to frame John Bates. But that was a problem neither he nor Belle could do anything about. It was all up to Anna and, unless he was sorely mistaken, she was the right person for the job.

In the meanwhile, he and Belle would stay in sight, talking to the guests, checking on the staff and steering clear of Anna. It was the only way to pull this off.

The hours dragged endlessly. The routine of the job wasn't enough to occupy their minds. They knew perfectly well that by the end of this day they would have to fire someone. The only question was whether it will be Killian Jones, John Bates or Anna Smith. The tension was unbearable and Belle started to feel something she never felt before, at least not to this degree: anger. Pure, white-hot, undeniable anger at that awful man, that liar, that _predator. _It wasn't in her to hate someone but, at that moment, after months of dreadful anticipation and now facing the all too real prospect of losing a very dear friend all thanks to Killian Jones scheming, Belle faced the truth: she hated that man with a passion. And it felt horrible. James, who was always in tune with her state of mind, pulled her by the hand to a secluded corner and placed his hands on her shoulders, making her gaze at him:

"It's going to be alright. We will not lose anyone." His voice was soft but firm and it carried all the conviction he could muster. He was not so certain himself but he must, he _needed_ to ease Belle's mind. For some strange reason, her distress was unbearable to him, she was hurting and he will do anything to make it stop.

Belle was looking at him, her blue eyes filled with tears and he felt drawn, pulled to her. His hands were now at her forearms, his thumbs drawing slow, lazy circles on her smooth flesh and he wanted more than anything to cradle her in his arms, wipe her tears away, keep her safe. When the pressure was almost more than he could bear, when he thought that whether he kiss her or he would run mad, Anna passed by, clearly looking for them, causing them to jump apart guiltily. For a moment, for a tiny little second he almost believed that Belle was inching closer to him, sharing the same need that was plaguing him. But the instant was gone, the spell broke and, although Belle looked flushed and breathless he was no longer sure if he saw the fire burn in her eyes or if he imagined it.

Anna, too excited to notice the charged moment she interrupted, glanced at them and gave them the tiniest of nods and took off, not wanting to draw attention. But the small signal was more than enough for Belle and James. Anna had done it, the dice was rolling and it was time to see if their bet would pay off.

…..

"Thank you all for coming in such short notice." James began, talking to the majority of the staff that gathered in the small dressing quarters of Darlington. The place was small but tidy, with showers if you need to freshen up – not surprising when one work at an hotel - and lockers to keep the personal items, such as cell phones - who were strictly prohibited - and clothes. "The reason I summoned all of you is to conduct a search to try and retrieve a stolen item."

That was received with amazed surprise. Stealing in Darlington was unheard of. Although none in the staff shared the same love for the place as James Gold and, to a degree, Belle French and Anna Smith, they all had a sense of respect for it. It was almost sacrilegious to soil the name Darlington Hall with a charge of theft.

Mary Kent, the young house maid, asked with a tiny, shy voice:

"But, Mr. Gold, maybe the item is just misplaced."

A buzz of agreement arose. Working in this line of business, they all know stories of missing objects: earing, watches, bracelets and, one time – believe it or not - a missing poodle. Each and every time it was case of misplacement, as Mary proposed. Well, except for the poodle. He just decided to take a long walk around the estate and returned after a couple of hours of strolling about.

"I'm afraid not. We already talked with the owner of said missing object and he already confirmed that the item was indeed stolen. However, he agreed not to press charges if the item is retrieved today, and I have every intention to see that it is retrieved." James voice dropped as the speech went on and by the time he said the last word he was almost growling, speaking through clenched teeth. "Now, I expect full co-operation by all of you. Go and stand next to the locker that contains your personal belongings."

Everyone rushed to follow the command. When James Gold tells them to jump the only question they would ask was 'how high?', but it was clear that they were all concerned. All but Killian Jones, that was. James and Belle were discretely keeping an eye on him and he looked like he was barely able to repress a grin.

Walking slowly, almost reverently, James approached the first locker – that happened to belong to Mary Kent - and asked her to opened it and step aside. He found nothing, as was expected. One by one the lockers were opened and searched and he was, slowly but surely, approaching the end of this ordeal. Finally he was standing in front of the locker of Killian Jones. His heart was beating heavily in his chest as he peered inside. At first he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Clothes in shelves and a pair of boots on the bottom. A couple of not so tasteful pictures on the inside of the metal door. He reached forward and grabbed the sweatshirt that was the first piece of clothing of the stack and there it was, gleaming softly, the missing IWC. The collective gasp of surprise was drowned by Killian Jones angry exclamation:

"There was not where I put it!"

That was followed by a deep, heavy silence. That moment of surprise turned out to be his undoing: he confessed without even noticing it and by the time he realized it, it was a little too late to try and deny.

"What do you have to say about this, Mister Jones?" James asked, calmly. Now that the deed was done, he just felt tired and drained.

Killian Jones hesitated. His instinct of self-preservation urged him to try and lie anyway, even when he knew it was hopeless, but the look on everyone faces, especially on Anna's, a mix of disgust and triumph, send him over the edge. He sneered at them and said:

"Guess there's no point in denying, is there? I gamble and lost but I am not finished, not by a long shot." He paused, fully facing Anna now, his face a thundercloud. "You did this, didn't you?" He snarled making his way toward her. Everyone seemed glued in place. Even if Killian Jones was not a well-loved member of the staff, this howling, growling, dangerous man was unknown to all. "You, always sticking your nose in the other people business, watching me, following me around. Did you think I didn't notice?" He was getting closer and closer to Anna now, a look of pure hatred in his eye. "You pin this on me but I'll be damned if I leave without at least some satisfaction." And as he spoke, he pulled his hand back, getting ready to backhand Anna across the face. But faster than anyone could believe it, John was there in front of her, grabbing Killian's wrist just a few inches from Anna face, his bulking figure towering over Killian.

"If you ever, _ever, _raise your hand to hit Anna again, I'll kill you." And he said this with such a calm voice that Killian knew that he meant every word he said. Stumbling back, rubbing his sore wrist, Killian glanced around the room, all his bravado spent and without another word he stormed out.

Everyone stared at him leaving; the dressing quarters were immersed in deep silence. And suddenly they were all talking at the same time, an excited confusion of voices and nervous laughter and exclamations of surprise. James let it go on for a few seconds and then shooed everyone out under the supervision of John and Anna.

Feeling a little of the pressure that was weighting on him loosening a bit, James, after sending the staff on its way, stepped closer to Belle. She was a bit pale, but seemed collected enough and his tension eased even further. At least until she looked at him. He could see unshed tears shining in her eyes, making them glow, and, along with the deep concern he felt for her, a wave of lust roared through his body, making his heart pound crazily in his chest. He could feel his self-control waver, the need to have her close, to scoop her in his arms, to mold his body to hers and kiss her senseless was overwhelming. But she didn't want this, she didn't want him and that thought was like a cold shower, making him feel more in control and, at the same time, like his heart was being ripped of his chest. Still, he needed to help her. So, swallowing his love and his pain, he came closer to her and, placing a hand on her arm, whispered in her ear:

"Come with me."

"I was thinking of going home…" She started but he only shook his head.

"Come."

Belle only wanted to crawled into her bed and curl herself into a ball and forget about the world for a few hours but James told her to come with him, whispering in her ear, his voice hoarse and his eyes dark and she couldn't deny him. She felt a fluttering sensation in her belly and wondered, for a crazy moment, if she was going to resist the need to kiss him. Her feelings were a confuse mass of wanting and dreading and the stress of this day only enforce the turmoil. Belle realized, with dismay, that she was on the verge of hysterical laughter, and wouldn't that be the perfect ending to a lousy day!? She was so wrapped up on this concerns that she only notice that they were already on their office when James, delicately urged her to sit on her chair.

"I really don't…" she started but he cut her off again.

"Hush, dearie. I know what you need and I'm going to give it to you." He failed to notice how tantalizing, how incredibly arousing his words were to her, how susceptible of being misinterpreted they were. Belle, however, was all too aware.

"What do you mean?" She asked, feeling lightheaded and panicky and excited.

"Whiskey!" He exclaimed, grabbing a couple of glasses and fishing a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label.

At first Belle didn't catch the meaning of what he said. Her mind was taking her to a whole different direction. But when it sunk in, when she realized James was not planning on sprawling her on his desk and have his way with her – '_unfortunately_, said a little voice inside her head - , she was powerless to stop the laughter that she was holding inside from bubbling out. She laughed and laughed and soon James was joining her too, the remains of the stress of the day leaving him for good. And, as easy as that, the tension between them eased as well and things felt simple again. Belle was simultaneously disappointed and relieved that nothing happened. She knew she wanted him more than anything but now was neither the time nor the place, in fact, she was not even sure that there would ever be a time and place for them but they were here, now, together, sharing a drink and a laugh and, despite all the wretchedness of the day she was feeling a lot better.

"Well, I don't know about the drink but I was definitely needing this." Bell said, still trying to get her outburst under control.

James silently pushed the glass toward Belle and picked his up, took a sip, and urged her to do the same. She was not used to drink, but she found that the burning sensation that whiskey induced was quite pleasant and she felt herself relax for the first time in hours and, with a small sigh, leaned on her chair and closed her eyes. They were silent for a few minutes sharing a comfortable silence. Belle was not naïve enough to think that they were rid of Killian Jones for good but it was nice to think that, at least for now, he was out of their way. She wasn't entirely satisfied about the way things turned out: after all, framing a man wasn't her idea of fair but when she thought about the alternative, the possibility of him forcing herself on one of the girls, she was able to crush her dissatisfaction. Her job was not only managing, it was also to keep her staff, her friends safe and she was ready to do pretty much anything thing to insure that.

Thank God she had James Gold to help her along the way.


	3. Chapter 3

**DARLINGTON HALL**

**Pairing:** Rumbelle

**Rating:** T (a hard T. No sex but still a few sexy scenes so be warned)

**Summary:** Belle French was not one to shy away from a challenge but moving to Scotland was not nearly as challenging as her new co-worker, James Gold, proved to be. Lousy summary, I know.

**Notes:** As you may or, most likely, may not know I'm a huge fan of 'Remains of the Day' so I decided to write this AU based, very, very loosely, on it.

I love Downton Abbey so I went ahead and burrowed John Bates and Anna Smith. I don't own them, obviously.

Hope you guys enjoy it.

**I OWN NOTHING.**

**Chapter 3**

The months went by and James Gold was amazed at how things changed so profoundly on such short time. To think that he was more than ready to hate that 'American girl' with all his might for even thinking of coming between him and his work and now… Well, now he just can't picture life without her. Looking at the beautiful scenery outside their office window – the bright green of the gardens, the light shining on the calm waters of the Loch – his mind tended to drift to Belle and to the time they spent together. She trusted him – _only God knows why, _he thought – and they found themselves talking for hours on end about pretty much anything: quiet talks about their pasts or their families, or passionate ones about books and movies and music. He treasured, especially, those times when they end up laughing together, and knowing that he was the one who made her laugh, he was the one who gave her this one perfect moment of pure happiness was enough to make his heart swell. He tried, very, very hard, to keep his heart in check, he told himself, time and again, that he was wrong for her. Too old, too damaged, too broken. But something inside of him, maybe just his wishful thinking, maybe a kind of deep rooted intuition, rebelled against that. A part of him, a vital, primal part of him _knew_ that he could make her happy, that he was the one who truly loved her, the one who truly knew her, that this was True Love. There was no point in denying the truth, not anymore: he was in love with her. It was so much more than a mere infatuation, it was far greater that the need of sex. Although he wouldn't deny that that particular need was becoming more and more difficult to repress. During the day time it was easier, her mere presence was enough to calm his frayed nerves, but at night his mind runs loose. He started to have these hauntingly vivid dreams about her: she would appeared out of thin air, her naked, perfect skin glowing with an inner light, and she would walk slowly towards him, her round hips swaying, her sapphire eyes locked with his, looking like a lioness closing in on her prey, and he was unable to move, more aroused than he ever was in his life and scared to death at the same time. She would straddle him, riding him, giving him pleasure he never knew existed and, when she whispered in his ear 'I love you' he would reach his climax and wake up feeling hot, harder than ever before and needing her more than he needed air itself. But, when he had this particular dream, at least he knew he was dreaming. Sometimes they were so real that when he woke up he felt a moment of pure disorientation and, when he realized it was not real at all, he felt robbed. Desperation filled him and he was sure that this was as close as he would ever be of her, in his dreams. He was not used to these feelings, to the ups and downs of his emotions. Bottom line, he was not used to being in love.

"You look very absorbed. Something's wrong?" He was startled by the sound of Belle voice and, to his dismay, felt himself blushing at the train of thought he was having just know. Trying to pull himself together he turned away from the window and greeted her with a smile:

"Everything is fine Miss…"He paused when she raised one eyebrow at him – and thrilled at how she adopted his mannerisms even if she wasn't aware of it – and crossed her arms: "Everything is fine,_ Belle_." He said, emphasizing her name. She has been trying for a while to get him to call her by her first name and he always refused. Not because he didn't want it but because he thought he would be easier to keep his distance if he used her last name. But she was relentless and finally he cave in. Belle, of course, took the liberty to star calling him 'James' and the sound of his name rolling of her tongue had the gift to make his blood boil and his heart beat wildly.

"That's better." She said, smiling warmly at him. He lived for these moments.

The day was almost over and the sun was starting to set. The warm orange glow that bathed the landscape gave it an almost surreal beauty. Now that Belle was in his life everything was beautiful and all the mundane things had a different value because she was there to share them with him. He was so at ease, so peaceful, that at first he didn't notice that Belle was talking again, asking him something:

"What was that dearie? My mind was drifting." He asked, forcing himself to the present.

"I said," she started, sounding amused, "that today I must leave a bit earlier because I have a date."

At first her words just didn't register in his mind. _'A date? Did she say a date?' _ He felt the very foundations of his word starting to crumble. Just a minute ago he was reliving all those wonderful moments they shared, nurturing the idea that maybe, just maybe, he had found True Love and Belle, oblivious to all this – _of course she was oblivious. What were you thinking?! – _was planning a date with some guy. James felt numb, cold. The life he dreamed of, all the plans he made, all the hopes he had were over, gone. Turned to dust. Somehow he managed to answer to Belle and, judging by her face when she left the office to get ready for her date, he was able to keep his distress to himself. He went to the window again, the perfect image of a man in absolute control: back straight, face blank, both hands settled firmly on the gold handle of his cane. But inside was a whole different matter. Inside he was dying. He felt a sharp pain on the left side of his chest and he realized he was experiencing, for the very first time, the agony of a broken heart.

…

Belle did notice something strange about James when she told him about the date. A kind of blankness, an emptiness in his expression. She sensed that he disapproved of her going out but she thought that after so many months of doing a very good job at co-managing Darlington Hall with him she deserved a small break for a few hours. What she _did _failed to notice was that she didn't specify that her date was Mary Margaret, her best friend that flew all the way from the States just to see her. But, to be completely honest, she didn't believe that James would care either way. She was absolutely sure that she was alone in her love. More, she was sure that if he was ever to find out about her feelings he would run for the hills in panic. So the possibility of James Gold being jealous of her was the last thing that would ever cross her mind. Later she would think that if these misunderstanding never took place things probably would've turn out so differently and, despite all the horrible things that happened, she wouldn't change a thing if she was given the chance.

…..

The next day, James Gold's mood wasn't in the least improved. Quite the opposite, in fact. He spent a sleepless night, haunted by images of his Belle – because in his mind she was _his_ – with that other guy. It was almost as if he could see her there: her eyes alight, her skin glowing, her smile – that very smile that made his head spin – radiant. But she was not looking his way, she was not smiling at him, she as not laughing with him and the very thought was destroying him. He tried to numb the pain with whiskey but it only made him more feel more sentimental and he had to stop when he felt the tears welling in his eyes. He would not cry, _he would not! _So instead he paced his cottage like a caged lion, his knee hurting like hell but he relish in the pain. It was so much better, so much easier to deal than that crushing, burning ache he felt in his chest whenever his mind drifted to Belle. He hated this feeling, this weakness. It made him want to smash things with his bloody cane: perhaps the face of that other guy. Yes, that would be very satisfactory indeed. But since that was impossible he decided to crunch his coffee table into smithereens. It eased his pain somewhat, but not enough, not nearly enough. Unfortunately, the smashing seemed to drain the last of his energy so, instead of pacing, he fell onto his couch, trembling. The sensation that his world was falling apart come back stronger than ever. All he could think was that for months all he wanted, all dreamt about was Belle and, even though he knew that having her was pretty much impossible he never considered, not even for a second, the possibility of losing her completely, losing her company, her presence, her friendship. But this date – he couldn't even think of that word without sneering – ruined all, destroyed everything, because now he saw how things could've been, how his life could've been and he was not sure he could just go back and pretend like nothing had happened. Belle was _not _nothing: she was everything; the piece that was missing; the light, the goodness that he was allowed to see and feel and wish for. It all seemed extremely unfair. It felt like being given the ability to see after a lifetime of blindness and then taking his sight away. Belle was un-replaceable and the thought of building a new life without her felt like and impossibly sad perspective.

All this and more was running through his mind while he was sitting at his desk. He knew that any minute now Belle would be walking into the office and he dreaded that moment. He wasn't even sure what to say or how to react. He had half a mind to fall in his knees in front of her and beg her not to leave him. But he knew himself too well. He didn't know how to deal with all this so he would hide himself behind a façade of indifference, of coldness. At least he would be able to maintain a shred of dignity.

As if thinking of her was a summon, Belle arrived to the office they shared, looking beautiful as ever.

"Good morning James." She exclaimed, exuberant. Her blatant happiness was like a knife to his heart. His last hope, that the date has been awful, fell apart and so did he. "I had the most wonderful time yesterday. " And that was the final straw. All his intentions of aloofness and indifference went right out the window and he found himself saying, with all the spite he could muster:

"Miss French," he started, ignoring her shocked expression at the coldness in his voice and expression," apparently you forgot that this is a working place and I am in no mood to listen to your incessant chatting. I've been more that accommodating to your desire to bond but I had about enough of it. Keep your personal affairs to yourself and focus on the job you get paid to do. Are we clear?" At that point he was almost shouting, all his control long gone. Belle was staring at him, speechless, stunned and hurt. She managed to pull herself together and answered him, with a mixture of pain and defiance:

"Of course, Mister Gold, you can rest assured that you'll be spared of my, what did you call it?, 'incessant chatter'." Her voice was breaking but her expression was stony.

"Good." James managed, in a thin voice. Now that his outburst was over he regret it bitterly, but he was too proud to back off and apologize. He sensed that he managed to push her way more effectively that any date or any man ever could. But it was too late. The damage was done and a kind of masochistic impulse pushed him to add: "I have a lot of work to do," he said, moving to the door, "I suggest you do the same." And with that he left, almost stumbling across the hallway, half blind with unshed tears. It was over now, all over, and it was all his fault.

…

Whenever Belle thought about what James said earlier, she felt her eyes starting to burn. She just couldn't understand what had happened to him. She knew as well as everyone else in Darlington that he was sometimes cold, sometimes scary, but never cruel. _Never. _Until now. Just to remember how excited she was about her diner with Mary Margaret, how she was so looking forward to tell James all the details about it, she felt her heart break a little. She kept replaying his words in her mind, over and over. It hurt more than she cared to admit. It cut deeper. But Belle was nothing if not insightful, so she sensed that James' lashing out was about something she wasn't aware of. She would get to the bottom of it, even if she had to tie him to a chair, but not now, not today. She was still feeling very raw, shaken. She needed time alone to think things through. Belle knew that she could talk to Anna but she didn't want to concern her friend, not when she was so happy, dating John Bates. It wasn't fair to them and besides, her heart urged her to be alone, at least for a while. So, after making sure that everything was running smoothly in Darlington, she left, heading for the woods that surrounded the estate. That was one of Belle's favorite places, one of the most secluded spots in all the property. It was dark and silent and ancient and Belle loved to follow the not-so-well-kept trails, basking in the sense of isolation that those woods instilled in her. That was exactly what she needed, a few hours of peace and quiet. The air was a bit cooler under the shade of the tall trees and her steps were muffle by the undergrowth. The silence was so absolute and Belle was so absorbed by her own thoughts that when she heard the faint sound of voices she thought she had imagine it. It was very uncommon to find people in the woods but not unheard of so Belle went her way, unconcerned. Until she heard the scream. It made her flesh broke in goose bumps and she felt her all the hair in her body trying to stand up. It didn't sound like a scream of pain, rather like one of fright, but it was impossible to say for sure. Belle knew that she should go back and get help but she just couldn't let the person who screamed alone, helpless. Now she could hear voices, muted, someone pleading and crying, and a rougher voice telling her – Belle was sure that it was a woman who screamed – to be quite. Feeling the adrenaline rush through her, forcing her to action, she walked, slowly and silently, toward the source of the tumult. When she finally saw the authors of the voices she felt like someone kicked her in the stomach. Hard. She saw Mary Kent, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, her small frame racked by sobs and, casually draping one arm across her shoulders, Killian Jones.

"Look who came to join us, Mary. It's Miss French! How are you doing?" Killian exclaimed, with a kind of mad, terrifying cheerfulness. "Just the person I was expecting to see."

Belle froze in place, scared beyond anything she had ever felt before. Not for herself, not then anyway, but because she finally saw exactly what was dangling from Killian's hand, terribly close from Mary's exposed skin: a knife.

"Mr. Jones, your grievance is not with Mary. It's with me. Why don't you let her go?" Belle asked, speaking softly, trying to calm him.

"You do sound very reasonable, Belle." She hated the way her name sounded when said by him. "I do have a score to settle with you so, although I was hoping to have the chance to enjoy Mary's….company," at this he leaned forward to sniff Mary's hair, making her shy away from him whimpering, "I think I'll take you up on your offer." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Of course, I'll have to take you instead. I think it's a perfectly fair trade, don't you?" He asked, pressing at the same time the flat of the blade against Mary neck. That was more than Belle could take:

"I'll go with you just… just let her go, please."

…

"Mr. Gold, please, you got to help me!" Mary Kent wailed as she burst into his office. "Please, Mr. Gold, I don't know what to do." And she started to sob, repeating '_please, please, please'_ under her breath.

James Gold, who was wallowing in a pit of despair, was brought back to the here and now by the sheer distress the girl was displaying. He jumped to his feet and grabbed Mary Kent by her shoulders, supporting her and urging her to stop crying:

"Miss Kent," he started, trying to sooth her' "Miss Kent you need to stop crying and tell me what happened if you want me to help you."

That seemed to do the trick and the girl nodded, dried her tears and took a deep breath:

"It's Belle." She said, still quivering. "Killian Jones had her."

"_What?" _He muttered , almost unable to speak his mouth was so dry. His vision wavered and he had to put a hand on his desk for support. "What did you said?"

"Killian Jones. He grabbed me in the woods. I think he was trying to…." She trailed off, tears rising in her eyes and James nodded, showing that he understood what she was not saying. If Belle hadn't appeared, chances were Killian Jones was going to force himself on Mary. Now Belle was held by that monster and James felt a deep urgency rise in him.

"Where?" He asked, his voice hard.

"He was going to take her to that old abandoned cabin in woods."

"I know where it is." It was actually quote close from his own cottage, only half a mile away. "Call the cops, send them there. I'm going to try to trade places with Belle."

"No! He said no cops!" She cried, afraid.

"Do as I say Miss Kent." He insisted, already halfway out the door. "Call them!" And he was off, walking as fast as he could, ignoring the pain and everyone around him. All he could think was that Belle was in danger and he would sooner die than to let harm come to her.

…

Looking back Belle realized it was probably bit naïve to believe that they got rid of Killian Jones for good. The thought of resisting crossed her mind, briefly, but she discarded it. The sight of that steel blade glistening gave her pause. There was nothing to do but following him to that abandoned cabinet and pray that Mary ignored his command to not call the police. Until then she was at this man mercy and, she had to admit it, she was scared.

The cabin was small and poorly-lit. It consisted in only one division and had only a single chair in terms of furniture. Killian waved with the knife, signaling that she should sit on the chair. He had some rope stashed somewhere and he tied her wrists to the arms of the chair and with the rest of the rope he looped it around her belly, tying her completely to the back of the chair. He was quiet throughout this whole affair, ignoring her attempts to engage conversation. She had never seen him like this. He was always talking and joking and being all-around annoying and intrusive. This silent, sullen man was dangerous in a way the old Killian Jones never was. When she was finally tied up to Jones' satisfaction he broke the silence:

"I would love nothing more than to teach you a lesson, right here, right now, but I'm a patient man and, unless I very much mistaken, any minute now your precious James Gold would arrive here." He grinned wolfishly at Belle, a mad light in his eyes. "And then, the real fun will start."

Belle never thought that she could be more afraid that she already was, but when Jones mention James' name, she knew just how terribly wrong she was. She felt cold all over, like her blood turned into ice cold water, freezing her from the inside out. She realized that he was probably right: Mary was so scared that she would not call the police. She would go straight to James and, despite the ugliness of earlier, she knew he would rush to this cabin to help her. And Killian James would be expecting him. She felt like screaming.

"Please, Mr. Jones, it's not too late to stop this madness." She pleaded, her mind racing, her voice wavering. She must convince him to leave before James arrives, otherwise a tragedy might happen. "I will not tell anyone you were here. You can leave and I swear I won't call the police. Please Mr. Jones." She knew it was a weak argument but it was the best she could do. She just couldn't think straight.

"Leave?" He exclaimed, almost laughing." Leave when I have you exactly where I wanted? Why should I do that? I have to tell you, Belle, I was only planning on having some fun with Mary just to teach you, James Gold, Anna Smith and John Bates a lesson, but it's so much funnier to play with you." He leaned close to her, his face inches from hers, the point of the knife pressing lightly on her face just below her left eye. "What do you think?" He asked her, softly, his head tilted to hers, as if he was telling her a secret. "Should I cut you when James Gold arrives? Carve a pretty little red line across your pretty little self-righteous face? That would surely bring the old man to his knees."

Belle closed her eyes and tried to pull herself as farther away from him as she could. She felt nauseated, terrified. Her time was running out and she couldn't see any way out. She was tied up to a chair, alone in a tiny cabin in the middle of the woods with a maniac carrying a knife. Thing seemed pretty desperate.

Suddenly the cabin door flung open and, outlined by the pale moonlight, standing there on the threshold, the silhouette of James Gold. Belle heart soared when she saw him and the thought that cross her mind was that she was not going to die without seeing him one last time. She felt a fresh surge of courage and the adrenaline that was flooding her pushed her into action. She was moving without even realizing it, her body moving seemingly on its own, trying to take advantage of the distraction caused by James' entrance. She pushed herself back, hard, and started to fall, still tied to her chair. Killian Jones was still standing close to her, looking at James. Belle took advantage of the momentum of her fall and stretching her leg as she fell, landed a perfect blow on the wrist of the hand that was holding the knife, making Killian James cry out in pain and surprise and his knife flew across the room. She landed squarely on her back and the impact was so strong that she lost all the air in her lungs.

Killian Jones, pray to the human condition, first grabbed his hurt wrist, then looked across the room at the fallen blade. When he finally looked toward James, all he saw was a blurred motion moments before the handle of James' can hit him flat across the jaw, sending him sprawling backward, hitting the wall and falling in a heap to the ground, unconscious but alive. James went straight to Belle, still fallen on her back tied to the chair, and fell on his knees next to her, biting down a cry of pain when his bad knee banged on the floor.

"Are you all right, dearie?" He asked, praying that she was safe.

"I'm fine. Where's Killian Jones?" She was trying to look everywhere at the same time but lying on the floor tied to a chair was not making her job easier.

"You don't have to worry about him now." He answered, already untying her wrists.

"What were you thinking, James Gold? You could've gotten hurt. He was planning on hurting you. You should've called the police." She was mad at him for risking his life like that. What if something had gone wrong? What if he had been hurt, or worse, killed?

"I asked Mary to call the cops." He said, nonchalantly. "Beside, did you honestly believe that I was going to let you alone on the hands of that man? I just needed to buy some time for the cops to arrive. But you…" He paused, looking at her with amazement. "You were incredible! My warrior princess." As soon as the words left his mouth he cringed. He couldn't lose control of his emotion like that. Not anymore.

The awkwardness of the moment was broken by the sound of fast approaching sirens. The police had arrived at last. They were asked a few questions, but James was friends with the chief of police so he managed to leave earlier with a promise of giving his statement the next day. Now all he wanted was to take Belle out of that place as soon as possible. He thought about driving back to Darlington, but his own cottage was just a few minutes away so he took her there. He was painfully aware of all the dreams and expectations he nurtured that involve them and his place. Now that the danger was behind them he started to feel the despair rise in him again. His emotions were a mess and he pondered that maybe bringing Belle here was a mistake. They were silent for a while, unsure of what to say or how to react. She was sitting on the couch, the same couch where he dreamed of making love to her, of spending idle hours talking to her, or reading with her, of simply being with her. It was more than he could take.

"I supposed you want some privacy to make a call, am I right?" He asked. Looking at her confuse look he added: "Your date, right? You must be dying to talk to him, right? Don't look so surprised Miss French. I know how this works."

"What are you talking about?" she almost yelled, frustrated and confused and, quite frankly, a bit pissed off.

"Your date, Miss French, your date! I supposed you would be handing your resignation any time now, am I right? Moving on with some bloke who doesn't even know you at all, who just want a beautiful trophy wife." At this point he was almost screaming, the nightmarish scenario he envisioned and reality mixing together, making his head pound. All he knew was that he was hurting, hurting as bad as he had ever hurt before and the need to lash out, to slash, to hurt was almost unbearable. He knew, some rational part of him did, anyway, that he was again on the route to losing her very friendship, but he couldn't stop. He pressed the heel of his cane less hand against his temple, hard. He had this strange lump in his throat that made it hard to speak and his eyes were burning again. The pain in his chest grew stronger than ever and he wondered, briefly, if this was what a heart attack felt like.

"You are an idiot, James Gold." Belle voice cut through his pain and misery like a knife.

"What?!" He asked, trying to sound furious and menacing but even to his own ears he sounded only tired and drained.

"I said that you, sir, are an idiot." She repeated, enunciating each word carefully and distinctively. He glared at her, dumbfounded and speechless. She sounded mad but somehow she seemed pleased. James was totally lost.

"First, you have no right to treat me like this, making accusation and giving me the cold shoulder. Second, and not that this is any of your business, my 'date' was Mary Margaret, my best friend from the Stated and you would already knew this if you weren't acting like such a bastard."

James felt his whole world veering and falling back into its axle. He was aware that Belle was still talking; her face flushed with anger, berating him, but was already too far gone. When he heard that her date was not really a date he went flying right over the edge. The tension of the last couple of days, the anger, the pain, the sorrow, it was all leaving him. He started to make his way to her.

Belle noticed the subtle change in James's expression, his eyes that were as hard as stone just a few seconds ago, soften to a warm chocolate brown. He started to smile, a true smile that made him look years younger. She tried hard to hold on to her anger, she was entitled to it after all, but it was getting harder and harder to remember why. He was closer now, so close that he could almost touch her and she felt her heart beat rise absurdly. He stopped just a few inches from her and Belle noticed, for the first time that, although he was not a tall man, he was still tall enough for her to have to tilt her head to look at him. James's hand moved, slowly, until his fingertips were pressed against the warm, sensitive skin of her neck. She started to tremble as his hand moved ever so slowly, caressing her.

"I _am _an idiot." He whispered, his voice thick with desire, his eyes dark pools of longing. "I _am_ a fool. " Belle only nodded, all the fight drained out of her, her whole world shrinking until there was only space for them in it; the look on his face, the sensation of his hand on her neck, the heat of his body standing so temptingly close to hers. "And I _am _in love with you." And, throwing caution to the wind, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It felt heavenly. She was soft and warm and he was lost in her. He was fully expecting a slap across the face, any minute now, or at least a kind but firm shove to tell him that it was over. What he was surely not expecting was Belle opening up to him, slipping her tongue into his mouth and burying her hand into his hair. She explored him, eagerly, lapping at every crevice, teasing the roof of his mouth, making him tremble. He grew bolder, his hands roaming all over her body, caressing her back, the nape of her neck, cupping her waist. She was pressed tightly to his body, moaning as she kissed him, pushing herself closer to him still when she felt his erection, hot against her belly. He growled low on his throat and grabbed a handful of her hair, pushing her head back and exposing her neck. He started to bite and nib, marking her as his own and she was more than pleased, scratching his back through the layers of clothing. He couldn't stop. Now that he saw that she wanted him as well, he wanted to be inside of her more than anything in the world. But first he needed her consent. Pulling himself from her was probably one of the hardest things he has ever done in his life. He put some distance between them, taking care to keep her in his arms, and all he could do was laugh at her annoyed face. She clearly didn't want to stop but still, he needed to know.

"Belle, love, I need to know if you really want this. If we keep this up I would not be able to stop." He said, breathless and flushed.

Belle paused, gazing into his eyes. She let her fingers travel across his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. He was standing perfectly still, completely at her command. If she wanted to stop, she knew he would. Sensing the importance of this moment she answered him:

"I'm still mad at you."

He only nodded, subdued.

"But I love you too."

And that was all the confirmation he needed.

THE END


End file.
